The Shadow
by DyneSonne
Summary: Almost three years after the story behind the movie ended, a new hero joins Kick-Ass and Hit Girl to take down the D'Amico remnants. Story follows a major Gary-Stu. I just wanted to use the Kick-Ass universe to practice writing.


The Shadow

A _Kick-Ass_ Fanfic

by

Dyne Sonne

Disclaimer: I do not own _Kick-Ass_ or any of its affiliated characters, locations, etc. The only thing I own is my character, Shadow/Mike.

Most nights, shit doesn't happen on the streets. I mean, there's always the small-time mugger crap, a drug deal here or there, but usually large-scale shootouts are few and far between. Except for tonight.

In my defense, it was a supposedly foolproof plan. I'd spent weeks of shadowing and bullying smalltime mobsters for dates, times, and locations as well as scouting out escape routes and ambush positions for the docks. I'd even set up a demo area out in the hills to do practice runs.

So there I was, my back against the parapet of the rooftop, EXACTO sniper rifle set up and ready to aim, adjusting a few things on my computer when my rear camera picked up movement behind me. Four black cars with tinted-windows pulling into the docks. A few men stepped out, posturing with their guns or flexing their muscles in a show of force. My leads were right: one of the next two men to step out had to be Frankie Bishop. Unless the other guy was the new head of the D'Amico family, I didn't care who he was.

The sun was setting low in the sky to the west. Perfect for lighting up what I was shooting at, but hiding me in the glare. That's just for protection, though, and only for an easy get away. No, I was planning something… a little flashier.

There – a white booted foot preceding charcoal slacks – Frankie stepped out of the third car. I was lining up my shot and getting ready to press a certain trigger on my computer when off the side of my scope I noticed a tiny moving shape in yellow and green headed our direction.

I cleared my throat and tapped out a code with my fingers. The computer in my glasses flared to life and I felt a small hum at the base of my throat under my suit.

"S to HG, I repeat, S to HG." I waited a few seconds before a click in my ear told me the message had been received.

"HG here."

"HG, tell your partner to turn around and go back the way he came. Danger ahead." Another short pause.

"Negative, S. K-A and I are F2F" Kick-Ass and Hit Girl were together in their civvies?

"Nevermind, HG. Thanks for the update."

"What's going on, S?"

"A K-A wannabe is in the wrong part of town and a group of mobsters I'm going to fuck over aren't gonna be happy to see him. It's a good distraction but not one I'd be happy to take advantage of. The fucker's gonna make me spring my trap early."

"Don't get caught."

"Oh please, HG. If anyone should be worried it's Bishop."

"You're taking out Bishop? Without me?"

"Sorry HG. I promise I'll let you help me interrogate his successor."

"Mmm… It's a date!" A click in my ear: she disconnected the line?

"It is not a date! You only just turned 16, for Christ's sake."

"Damn straight she did, Shadow. You stay away from my little sister."

"Fuck you, Dave! I can date who ever I like!"

"I'm 22, Mindy. You're too young for– Oh shit! Gotta go!"

"Wait, Shad-" I hurriedly disconnected. I had completely forgotten about the mobsters. Amateurish mistake. I worked my gloves a little more. My monocle matched itself to my rifle's scope. Damnit, I haven't confirmed everyone yet. Oh well, no time. Have to spring my trap before that Kick-Ass imposter gets here.

Another series of finger waving as I typed out the access to the computer program. A second later, a loud popping noise was heard as a bunch of fireworks and smoke bombs exploded in a box near the cars and a blow-up doll inflated, dressed like Kick-Ass. Shouts of confusion and panic, but it would only fool and distract them for a moment. I flicked my lens over to thermal to get past the smoke. Gunfire resounded throughout the district.

There! Frankie was being pulled over to one of the cars by a large mobster. I couldn't tell who was on which side, but it hardly mattered. Man, I love .50 caliber rifles. I squeezed the trigger and relished in the sudden spray of heat from both men. A quick check with my uncovered left eye revealed the Kick-Ass fake running as fast as he could. I quickly slung my rifle over my shoulder and bolted for the opposite building. I reactivated my lens computer with a flick of my wrist, popping up a GPS map to my home away from home.

Thirty minutes of a roof-hopping sprint later, I found myself slamming my back and sitting down hard against a white door marked "#2", panting hard. After resting for a moment, I slid back up the door and punched a few numbers into the new lock I installed. The lock slid back with a thunk and the door slid open.

I froze immediately. On the floor was a tiny strip of paper. It's an old trick, but it works; someone had been here while I was out. I flattened myself to the wall, pulling out one of my silenced Glock Gen4 17s. I crept along the wall to the second entrance door. Counting to 3, I flung the door open and waited for a hail of fire that did not come. Not thugs, then. I slid my glock around the door before I dove across the doorway ready to open fire.

I wasn't even an inch off the ground when my glock was wrenched out of my hands and I landed on my back, hard, with a petite yet extremely painfully placed knee in my throat.

"Welcome back."

"Glhk-"

"Oh, sorry." The girl moved her knee a little, allowing air back into my lungs. I coughed a few times before glaring up at her.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Hit Girl. What are you doing here?"

"In case you forgot, this used to be my dad's safe house."

"I didn't forget, I just wasn't expecting company."

"It was silly of you to not set up additional security since we left."

"I set some up, I just forgot to activate it before I went on patrol. Most of it is designed to prevent people from following me as I escape from this place anyways, since the D'Amicos already know it's here."

"How did you know someone was even here? I thought I cut all the power to the cameras before I came in."

"Oh please, Hit Girl" I grinned under my mask, pulling it off. "A magician never reveals his tricks." She shook her head exasperatedly while I removed my computer lens and gloves. "Where's Dave?"

"Probably still with his girlfriend. I didn't know if you'd need any medical assistance when you got back so I came as soon as I could."

"You really have that little faith in me?"

"I'm just better trained, that's all."

"Well, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying." I began to peel off the rest of my outfit, starting with my boots. By the time I got to my boron-treated Kevlar-reinforced wetsuit, she was still watching me. I cleared my throat, and she turned away with another exasperated sigh. "Did you make some hot cocoa while you waited? I can kinda smell it."

"Yeah, I did. I take it we're not going back out tonight?"

"Maybe later, Hit Girl." I grinned, throwing a pair of pants on. "You can take the mask off for now, though, I gotta take a break to do some homework and give those mobsters some time to elect a new sub-boss that I can rough up for info on the new head of the D'Amicos. Frankie Bishop caught on too early and had too many guards for me to get to him safely. Want to help me with my math?" She shook her head as she removed her mask.

"You can do your own Calculus homework. Hold on, let me get you some cocoa."

"You're the best, Mindy. Extra marshmallows?"

"You know it." She grinned at me before turning and heading into the "kitchen" area. I sat down at a desk, pulling a few books from my bag when she came up behind me and hugged me from behind, setting the hot chocolate down in front of me. Multicolored marshmallows, I noticed. "And I definitely don't mind you decided to keep the shirt off."

"You can look but you can't touch." I said, lightly pushing her away.

"Shouldn't that apply to you?"

"I neither look nor touch."

"Don't be such an ass, Mike."

"Something… bothering you?"

"Not really."

"Ah, so it's just hormones?"

"Stop being an ass!" I groaned. There was no way I'd be getting any homework done at this rate.

"Look, Mindy: you know you can talk to me about anything. I may not be as close to you as Dave, but at the same time I'm a neutral side in anything." I put my pencil down and fully turned to face her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Dave. He's being stupid."

"Hanging out with Katie more than you like?"

"Yes! I mean, no – I mean, I know they're bf and gf, but like, do they have to be so lovey-dovey and hang out all the time?

"You should be happy for him."

"I am! I mean, I was, but… aw fuck it. Come on, Mike, screw your homework. Either screw me or let's go kill some bad guys!" I seized up on my hot cocoa, almost choking on a marshmallow.

"Don't say shit like that when I've got stuff in my mouth! I could've choked!"

"Well, then I could have given you CPR…" I gave her a light noogie before standing up and stretching.

"Fine, you win. Let's go patrol," I started to gather all my gear. She watched as I placed everything out before putting it on.

"I can't believe we've only known you for a year," she said, as I pulled my sweat pants off.

"Has it been a year?" I asked, stepping into the wetsuit, pulling it up to my waist. I grabbed the boron-treated hood and slid it over my head, tucking my hair inside where it poked out before zipping the wetsuit over where the hood covered the neck. I was now completely bulletproof except for my feet, hands, and face, something Mindy felt keen to remind me on when I turned around to one of my – _her_ – glocks in my face. Reflex drove me to the right around the gun, where her fist was waiting, holding a knife. Luckily, I hadn't been slouching on my training. A quick spin step around that fist and we were side to side with one major difference.

I had a hold of her left wrist in my right hand and a quick snap to the underside of her chin with my left tilted her head back and stunned her long enough for me to switch hands. Using my right bicep to keep her head back allowed me to wrap my now free right arm around the underside of her left arm where I grabbed my left bicep, twisting and pulling down with my left hand until she let go of the knife. However, she used the momentum of the twist to fly up in the air. She floated like a beautiful jellyfish in water, and she stung like one too. I got an elbow to the top of my head, and unwrapped my right arm as the centripetal force wrenched her arm out of my grasp while she spun over my back. I felt a little pressure between my legs, meaning she had probably tried to kick me in the nuts.

Soon after that kick, I felt a foot in the small of my back and two hands grab my shoulders. I felt my feet lose their purchase on the ground and suddenly I was literally head over heels for Mindy. I crashed through a table on my way back down to earth – luckily it was one of the tables with my gear on it. I surreptitiously slid one of my gloves on and dove towards Hit Girl, sliding in under her raised glock arm, receiving a punch on my right flank but driving my fist straight into her gut, current plates in the knuckles activating and delivering a nasty 50k volt shock to her abdomen, contracting her muscles and causing her body to seize up. For the short period of time I had before her body resumed full functions, I quickly disarmed her and used the cable she had on her belt to hogtie her.

"You're… into some really kinky shit," she gasped out, still reeling from the shock.

"Can we call this my victory, then? Making it 6 wins to 40 losses?" I asked,

"I would've had you from the moment you turned around, with the pistol in your face." She claimed, glaring up at me.

"Except you left the safety on."

"I did not!"

"Want to bet?"

"You going to untie me?"

"Not yet," I grinned, poking her in the ribs with a finger. "I think I'll leave you like this for a little while longer so I can finish getting dressed.

"Are you gonna wear the cape?"

"Maybe. Would you like me to?"

"We'll be cape cousins!" I laughed, pulled on my boots and my other glove before fitting a Kevlar vest over my torso. I pulled my boron-treated ski mask over my face, tied my black cape on, then the final piece of the ensemble – the plastic lens that houses my supercomputer.

My name is Michael. I don't have a last name; or, at least, not one I use anymore. But when I'm dressed in my all-black gear like right now, I go by one name: "The Shadow."

I didn't even get to pick the name. I got caught on camera without realizing it while taking out a minor drug ring. In the aftermath the TV newscaster referred to me as a shadow, slinking away in the darkness. As for Mindy, and Dave, and my issue with the D'Amicos, well, it all started when I, as a prospective artist, was looking for a place to turn into an art studio.

That's when I found safe house #2. I pretty much just stumbled upon it, really. The place was totally abandoned, no one had come in or out in what seemed like over a year. I wouldn't find out why for a few months, but for the most part here I was: a 19-year-old artist with a slightly athletic background (been playing soccer since I was 6), and suddenly I found myself in possession of a large empty space filled almost to the brim with various ordinance. Needless to say, I freaked out.

Safe house #2 was a lot more intricate after further inspection. Kitchen. Bedroom. Bathroom. Oh, and did I mention the underground gun range? Because there is totally a gun range under the building which I fully utilized: I practiced my aim for months until I could, with a reflex from-the-hip shot, bulls eye a target at 20 yards and close to one for another 30 with any weapon. When you put a sniper rifle in my hands? There wasn't a target inside of a mile I couldn't hit. Luckily for me, whoever left all those weapons and ammo boxes there wasn't coming back.

Or so I had thought, until I woke up one morning with a gun in my face and a purple-haired masked 15 year-old-girl standing over me. I almost wet my pants. Okay, I lied; I totally wet myself. There's a big difference between shooting a gun yourself and having one put right against one of your eyes. She demanded to know who I was, and I introduced myself; told her how I came to the safe house, what I was doing while I was there. She already knew, of course. She'd been watching me for a week already.

And Dave? Well, he was there the whole time. Laughing at me, the dick. Like he'd seen her do this a hundred times and yet suddenly for the first time it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Dave and I don't really get along. I think he's just jealous how good I am with technology. After all, he doesn't have a supercomputer in a shatterproof plastic lens that tints itself or changes to thermal or night vision depending on light or user input, or that can even align itself with the scope of any gun I use for aiming. He doesn't have wands in his gloves that allow him to manipulate the computer based on finger movements. And he certainly doesn't have a boron-treated Kevlar-reinforced costume that's practically bulletproof. All he has is those batons. Well, and that deadened nerve system, but I can't see how that'd be useful; pain is a good alert of danger.

But they were both there; they knew who I was, and they knew it wasn't safe there, despite my beliefs with all the guns. They told me the D'Amicos knew the safe house was there, and that they'd surely be by to check it out sometime soon to make sure no one was using it – especially now that _someone_ had taken over the family. Our top suspects were either the son of Frank D'Amico or Red Mist, whoever he was. But we didn't know. Not then.

Not even now, actually. Eight months of hardcore searching for Red Mist or Chris D'Amico, and nothing. None of the mobsters we interrogated had any information on the superiors in the organization. Too many wrong leads and dead ends, and no way to even verify we were still on the right track. Not even Angie, the widow of the late D'Amico head, had any information. Mindy had too much fun with that interrogation – it was one of the only times I've ever seen her lose control and have to be held back by Dave. Unfortunately, at that point it was too late for Mrs. D'Amico. That was four months back, and there had been this thick tension between Dave and Mindy ever since.

Which was probably one of the few reasons I find myself staring in to her eyes like I am right no-

"Mike." Realization. Staring not only impolite, but also a tad creepy – and now I'm rambling. Continuing for too long and with many changes of subject; built or spread over a large area and not clearly organized or regular in shape.

"Mike."

"What?"

"Are you going to untie me?" Untie. Purpose. Hands need to work now.

"Sorry, I got distracted. Hold still. Promise not to kick my ass when I do?"

"I promise." I untied her and helped her to her feet. She gave me a light elbow in the ribs. Or it could have been a hard elbow that was just absorbed by the suit. I bet if Dave wore my costume he'd never feel anything. You could hit him with a car and he wouldn't be hurt at all, though he'd probably still get thrown in the air or something. "You're really distracted tonight. You okay?"

"I am, and I am not."

"Well, gear up and pay attention. If I get killed tonight because of you I'm going to be very upset."

"You won't die. I'd have to be dead first. I promise."

"Sh-shut up asshole! You don't need to say shit like that! I can take care of myself!" She stormed off to the kitchen. I took a sip of my hot cocoa and instantly did a spit-take. It had gone cold. I set it back down next to the second cup and went to grab some guns.

I found a pair of heavy-duty work pants with dozens of pockets, which I pulled on. I picked up some ammo clips and added them to a belt I wrapped around my waist, followed by my two favorite guns – a pair of FN P90s, which I strapped to my thighs. Two glocks in holsters added to my belt. I left the EXACTO rifle in the front entryway – I'll just pick it up on my way out. A few smoke and stun grenades in the pockets. My ski mask I put in a pocket. No need to pull it on yet. Mindy came back in the room, with her Hit Girl mask back on.

"You ready?" I asked, giving her a gentle smile.

"I was ready an hour ago. You're the one who had to do his calculus." I gave a light laugh, and pulled her into a light hug.

Then the lights went out.


End file.
